Once on a time there was a poor couple who lived in a wretched hut, far
far away in the wood. How they lived I can’t tell, but I’m sure it was
from hand to mouth, and hard work even then; but they had three sons,
and the youngest of them was Boots, of course, for he did little else
than lie there and poke about in the ashes.
So one day the eldest lad said he would go out to earn his bread, and
he soon got leave, and wandered out into the world. There he walked and
walked the whole day, and when evening drew in, he came to a king’s
palace, and there stood the King out on the steps, and asked whither he
was bound.
“Oh, I’m going about, looking after a place”, said the lad.
“Will you serve me?” asked the King, “and watch my seven foals. If you
can watch them one whole day, and tell me at night what they eat and
what they drink, you shall have the Princess to wife, and half my
kingdom; but if you can’t, I’ll cut three red stripes out of your back.
Do you hear?”
Yes! that was an easy task, the lad thought; he’d do that fast enough,
never fear.
So next morning, as soon as the first peep of dawn came, the king’s
coachman let out the seven foals. Away they went, and the lad after
them. You may fancy how they tore over hill and dale, through bush and
bog. When the lad had run so a long time, he began to get weary, and
when he had held on a while longer, he had more than enough of his
watching, and just there, he came to a cleft in a rock, where an old
hag sat and spun with a distaff. As soon as she saw the lad who was
running after the foals till the sweat ran down his brow, this old hag
bawled out:
“Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.”
Yes! the lad was willing enough; so he sat down in the cleft of the
rock with the old hag, and laid his head on her lap, and she combed his
hair all day whilst he lay there, and stretched his lazy bones.
So, when evening drew on, the lad wanted to go away. “I may just as
well toddle straight home now”, said he, “for it’s no use my going back
to the palace.”
“Stop a bit till it’s dark”, said the old hag, “and then the king’s
foals will pass by here again, and then you can run home with them, and
then no one will know that you have lain here all day long, instead of
watching the foals.”
So, when they came, she gave the lad a flask of water and a clod of
turf. Those he was to show to the King, and say that was what his seven
foals ate and drank.
“Have you watched true and well the whole day, now?” asked the King,
when the lad came before him in the evening.
“Yes, I should think so”, said the lad.
“Then you can tell me what my seven foals eat and drink”, said the
King.
“Yes!” and so the lad pulled out the flask of water and the clod of
turf, which the old hag had given him.
“Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink”, said the lad.
But then the King saw plain enough how he had watched, and he got so
wroth, he ordered his men to chase him away home on the spot; but first
they were to cut three red stripes out of his back, and rub salt into
them. So when the lad got home again, you may fancy what a temper he
was in. He’d gone out once to get a place, he said, but he’d never do
so again.
Next day the second sons aid he would go out into the world to try his
luck. His father and mother said “No”, and bade him look at his
brother’s back; but the lad wouldn’t give in; he held to his own, and
at last he got leave to go, and set off. So when he had walked the
whole day, he, too, came to the king’s palace. There stood the King out
on the steps, and asked whither he was bound? and when the lad said he
was looking about for a place, the King said he might have a place
there, and watch his seven foals. But the king laid down the same
punishment, and the same reward, as he had settled for his brother.
Well, the lad was willing enough; he took the place at once with the
King, for he thought he’d soon watch the foals, and tell the King what
they ate and drank. So, in the gray of the morning, the coachman let
out the seven foals, and off they went again over hill and dale, and
the lad after them. But the same thing happened to him as had befallen
his brother. When he had run after the foals a long long time, till he
was both warm and weary, he passed by the cleft in a rock, where an old
hag sat and spun with a distaff, and she bawled out to the lad:
“Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.”
That the lad thought a good offer, so he let the foals run on their
way, and sat down in the cleft with the old hag. There he sat, and
there he lay, taking his ease, and stretching his lazy bones the whole
day.
When the foals came back at nightfall, he too got a flask of water and
clod of turf from the old hag to show to the King. But when the King
asked the lad:
“Can you tell me now, what my seven foals eat and drink?” and the lad
pulled out the flask and the clod, and said:
“Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink.”
Then the King got wroth again, and ordered them to cut three red
stripes out of the lad’s back, and rub salt in, and chase him home that
very minute. And so when the lad got home, he also told how he had
fared, and said, he had gone out once to get a place, but he’d never do
so any more.
The third day Boots wanted to set out; he had a great mind to try and
watch the seven foals, he said. The others laughed at him, and made
game of him, saying:
“When we fared so ill, you’ll do it better—a fine joke; you look like
it—you, who have never done anything but lie there and poke about in
the ashes.”
“Yes!” said Boots, “I don’t see why I shouldn’t go, for I’ve got it
into my head, and can’t get it out again.”
And so, in spite of all the jeers of the others and the prayers of the
old people, there was no help for it, and Boots set out.
So after he had walked the whole day, he too came at dusk to the king’s
palace. There stood the King out on the steps, and asked whither he was
bound.
“Oh”, said Boots, “I’m going about seeing if I can hear of a place.”
“Whence do you come then?” said the King, for he wanted to know a
little more about them before he took any one into his service.
So Boots said whence he came, and how he was brother to those two who
had watched the king’s seven foals, and ended by asking if he might try
to watch them next day.
“Oh, stuff!” said the King, for he got quite cross if he even thought
of them; “if you’re brother to those two, you’re not worth much, I’ll
be bound. I’ve had enough of such scamps.”
“Well”, said Boots; but since I’ve come so far, I may just as well get
leave to try, I too.”
“Oh, very well; with all my heart”, said the King, “if you _will_ have
your back flayed, you’re quite welcome.”
“I’d much rather have the Princess”, said Boots.
So next morning, at gray of dawn, the coachman let out the seven foals
again, and away they went over hill and dale, through bush and bog, and
Boots behind them. And so, when he too had run a long while, he came to
the cleft in the rock, where the old hag sat, spinning at her distaff.
So she bawled out to Boots:
“Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.”
“Don’t you wish you may catch me”, said Boots. “Don’t you wish you may
catch me”, as he ran along, leaping and jumping, and holding on by one
of the foal’s tails. And when he had got well past the cleft in the
rock, the youngest foal said:
“Jump up on my back, my lad, for we’ve a long way before us still.”
So Boots jumped up on his back.
So they went on, and on, a long, long way.
“Do you see anything now”, said the Foal.
“No”, said Boots.
So they went on a good bit farther.
“Do you see anything now?” asked the Foal.
“Oh no”, said the lad.
So when they had gone a great, great way farther—I’m sure I can’t tell
how far—the Foal asked again:
“Do you see anything now?”
“Yes”, said Boots; “now I see something that looks white—just like a
tall, big birch trunk.”
“Yes”, said the Foal; “we’re going into that trunk.” So when they got
to the trunk, the eldest foal took and pushed it on one side, and then
they saw a door where it had stood, and inside the door was a little
room, and in the room there was scarce anything but a little fireplace
and one or two benches; but behind the door hung a great rusty sword
and a little pitcher.
“Can you brandish the sword?” said the Foals; “try.” So Boots tried,
but he couldn’t; then they made him take a pull at the pitcher; first
once, then twice, and then thrice, and then he could wield it like
anything.
“Yes”, said the Foals, “now you may take the sword with you, and with
it you must cut off all our seven heads on your wedding-day, and then
we’ll be princes again as we were before. For we are brothers of that
Princess whom you are to have when you can tell the King what we eat
and drink; but an ugly Troll has thrown this shape over us. Now mind,
when you have hewn off our heads, to take care to lay each head at the
tail of the trunk which it belonged to before, and then the spell will
have no more power over us.”
Yes! Boots promised all that, and then on they went. And when they had
travelled a long long way, the Foal asked:
“Do you see anything?”
“No”, said Boots.
So they travelled a good bit still.
“And now?” asked the Foal.
“No, I see nothing”, said Boots.
So they travelled many many miles again, over hill and dale.
“Now then”, said the Foal, “do you see anything now?”
“Yes”, said Boots, “now I see something like a blue stripe, far far
away.”
“Yes”, said the Foal, “that’s a river we’ve got to cross.” Over the
river was a long, grand bridge; and when they had got over to the other
side, they travelled on a long, long way. At last the Foal asked again:
“If Boots didn’t see anything?”
“Yes, this time he saw something that looked black far far away, just
as though it were a church steeple.”
“Yes”, said the Foal, “that’s where we’re going to turn in.”
So when the foals got into the churchyard, they became men again, and
looked like Princes, with such fine clothes that it glistened from
them; and so they went into the church, and took the bread and wine
from the priest who stood at the altar. And Boots he went in too; but
when the priest had laid his hands on the Princes, and given them the
blessing, they went out of the church again, and Boots went out too;
but he took with him a flask of wine and a wafer. And soon as ever the
seven Princes came out into the churchyard, they were turned into foals
again, and so Boots got up on the back of the youngest, and so they all
went back the same way that they had come; only they went much, much
faster. First they crossed the bridge, next they passed the trunk, and
then they passed the old hag, who sat at the cleft and span, and they
went by her so fast, that Boots couldn’t hear what the old hag
screeched after him; but he heard so much as to know she was in an
awful rage.
It was almost dark when they got back to the palace, and the King
himself stood out on the steps and waited for them. “Have you watched
well and true the whole day?” said he to Boots.
“I’ve done my best”, answered Boots.
“Then you can tell me what my seven foals eat and drink”, said the
King.
Then Boots pulled out the flask of wine and the wafer, and showed them
to the King.
“Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink”, said he.
“Yes”, said the King, “you have watched true and well, and you shall
have the Princess and half the kingdom.”
So they made ready the wedding-feast, and the King said it should be
such a grand one, it should be the talk far and near.
But when they sat down to the bridal-feast, the bridegroom got up and
went down to the stable, for he said he had forgotten something, and
must go to fetch it. And when he got down there, he did as the Foals
had said, and hewed their heads off, all seven, the eldest first, and
the others after him; and at the same time he took care to lay each
head at the tail of the foal to which it belonged; and as he did this,
lo! they all became Princes again.
So when he went into the bridal hall with the seven princes, the King
was so glad he both kissed Boots and patted him on the back, and his
bride was still more glad of him than she had been before.
“Half the kingdom you have got already”, said the King, “and the other
half you shall have after my death; for my sons can easily get
themselves lands and wealth, now they are princes again.”
And so, like enough, there was mirth and fun at that wedding. I was
there too; but there was no one to care for poor me; and so I got
nothing but a bit of bread and butter, and I laid it down on the stove,
and the bread was burnt and the butter ran, and so I didn’t get even
the smallest crumb. Wasn’t that a great shame?